The Big Con
by Jaili
Summary: After crossing paths on the job, a contract killer and a con are drawn into a deadly game of cat and mouse. They will either overcome their differences or be killed themselves. Pre-prison Tychus, pre-cyborg Mira Han. short story / complete


"Target: Kreuger Paulson," an adjutant said, "Reward: 150,000 credits. Location: Unknown."

A young woman with pixie pink hair, cut short and jutting upwards defiantly, smiled with full red lips. "Well no one stays hidden forever, Mr. Paulson." She pressed her fingertip to the accept button.

 _Hades, Full Glass bar_

"I hired you to guard me, not drink the entire bar under the table!" a red-faced man nearly shouted, trying not to disturb his patrons, but also to get across a point. With a pot belly and bald head, beads of sweat were running down his temples.

Nearly of height with the angry man while sitting, the subject of his anger grinned. In a low, rumbling voice he said, "Well ain't nobody gonna kill ya when they are all passed out, are they?"

Letting out a noise of disgust, the bartender padded the sweat off his cheek with a dirty cloth and turned away. He hired the thug for a reason, he wasn't willing to push the issue to physicality.

"Didn't think so," the sitting man chuckled, arm snaking out to quickly pinch the ass of a passing waitress, who seemed to not be phased. "Damn shame," he muttered into his drink. It was Red vs. Blue night and the bar was packed to watch, the last thing he wanted was to be interrupted.

The planet Hades was closer to it's namesake than he'd like, but it was a dark, quiet hole and the paranoid bartender was both easy credits to guard and easily bullied into free drinks. What more could he ask for?

As though someone was listening, an angel walked into the bar.

Smoothing a wrinkle in her slinky pink dress, Mira Han approached the bartender. The din of voices quieted down as she walked past, every step with a purpose to reveal and tease. Already tall without the heels on, there was an awful lot to reveal.

"I'd like a drink," she said, smiling radiantly.

"On the house," the bartender said without pause, gesturing upwards to the display where she could choose from whatever cheap wares his humble bar had.

Following his gesture, she glanced up only briefly- it wasn't much. Pressing against the bar, she crooked her finger at him to move closer. He did so right away, bewitched by soft lips and deep cleavage.

Tenderly, she reached forwards and grasped his sweaty hand away from the rag on his shoulder. The poor man was so red, she wasn't sure if he was blushing or just naturally that way. Clasping her hands around his, she smiled down at him, "Mr. Paulson," and the color immediately washed away from his face as he froze. "No one stays hidden forever," with a scrape of her fingernail against his skin, the needles underneath delivered their toxic payload.

Jerking away, Kreuger spun and made to run, the whites of his eyes bugging from their sockets, but ended up spinning more and tumbling to his face with a loud crash. The word "help" died on his lips.

"Call an ambulance!" Mira shouted, holding her hands up in mock shock, as though she had no idea what she did. In the ensuing tumult of people rising up to steal his wares instead of call for help, she slipped outside. The hot pink dress and the lady within it were no longer a thought, it was easier than she expected.

Only good for one use, she gently tugged the small device out from under her fingernail and tossed it aside as she rounded the corner, a large form exiting the bar catching her eye. When his head snapped in her direction, she knew someone was on her tail. The getaway bike was two blocks away, right beside the paintball joint. She began to run, good thing she was wearing very conservative heels.

A glance behind revealed nothing, her pursuer had either already lost her or taken a different route. What she wouldn't have given to be able to wear her normal gear, but Kreuger was far too cautious for that; thugs and riffraff were altogether different than mercenaries. All she could hear was her heartbeat, music pounding through every other wall, and her clattering footfalls rushing towards her destination.

When she heard two heavy thuds to the left, she swung down an alleyway to the right instead, too cautious to get closer to the sound to see if it really was that huge dark shape. Her mind raced: what had she seen when she entered? All eyes on her of course, but who stood out in return?

A group of men playing cards, a haze of smoke over them, and the one man who dwarfed them all staring perhaps a little more intently than the others. Had to be him.

Thinking a little too hard and not paying enough attention to her surroundings, she narrowly leaped over an overturned garbage can and gasped out loud when an arm swung out from the dark and slammed into her like a bat, wrapping her up tight against a chest that was closer to a wall of granite than flesh and blood.

"Let go!" she hissed, reaching with her hands only to have them ensnared and pulled up between her shoulder blades painfully.

"You cost me a whole hell of a lot of credits, sugar," a basso voice rumbled overhead, closer to the rumble of an ursadon, displeasure clear in his tone and how he gave her arms a painful wrenching.

"I don't know what you are talking about," she said, calming and feeling out the situation. He was bigger than she initially thought, several heads taller than herself, and she was no small woman. The one hand held both hers in an unwavering grip, the other had come to rest threateningly around her throat, though not squeezing. There was no physically beating this particular foe.

Not fairly anyway.

He snorted, "I ain't a fool, sweetheart. Now start talkin'," his fingers closed enough to press at the skin of her neck, each one thicker than a knifes haft, "how much were you paid to knock off that old slob? Couldn't have been much."

The reek of alcohol on his breath could have been making her drunk by proxy it was so heavy. She wondered how he could stand, never mind formulate a sentence. Still, a degree of honesty was necessary, "8000 credits, easy job," she said.

His fingers tightened and gave her a good shake, closing her windpipe effortlessly for a second before relaxing again. "Don't lie to me," he growled.

"150k!" she gasped quickly, life was more important.

"That's more like it, real merc pay."

"What does it mean to you? I don't recall this guy having friends," she rasped around his constricting grip.

"Like I said," he squeezed her wrists then, reminding her of her poor position, "you cost me my job guarding that loser. Now you're gonna give me what you earned for killin' him," he grinned then, big toothed and mean. Oh the things he could do with 150k credits! The things he _was_ going to do.

Her hackles raised, it cost half that just to find the guy! She took a slow breath, "Let us discuss this in a better position, yes?"

The stubble of his cheek scraped against her own soft one as his lips came to rest beside her ear, "You're hot as hell sugar, but this is business. Don't try and use them feminine wiles on me, got it?"

"Understood," she said.

Slowly, painfully, one of her hands was released and one remained in his grip. "If you play nice, you'll walk away alive and I'll walk away happy. That's a win-win to me," he said.

With all the demureness she could muster, she turned to face him. Her eyes widened a notch, "Tychus Findlay?" That was a face plastered across every wanted board in every lawmans office, square jawed and beady eyed, it was hard to forget.

He visibly swelled with pride and she regretted her reaction. "My reputation precedes me, now how about you move your cute little ass to your getaway vehicle and we get outta h-ARGH"

She poked him in the eye viciously and when he didn't let go the first time, she kneed him in the balls. As he fell down holding his face and taking wild swipes with his free hand, snarling incoherently, she said haughtily, "I have a reputation of my own, Findlay. You and your ego are not going to damage it," she danced out of range of his meaty fist easily. "Better go get that eye checked out!"

He howled, primal and frothing with rage, "I'll kill you!" as she ran to her nearby speeder.

His fury drowned out by the roar of the vehicle, she left her laughter in the wind for him to remember her by.

 _Hangover Hotel_

"You're lucky I owe you Tychus, this wasn't easy info to come by," an abrupt click cut off the rest of what the man on the other end of the fone was going to say.

"Hell with you," taking a long pull of his cigar, Tychus took one last look over his rifle and stood up. "I'm comin' sweet cheeks," he grinned around the huge stogey, his one eye still awful red from being poked so hard. "It's personal now."

She was leaving at night, less chance of being detected by local authorities. Joke was on her of course, there were no real ones. Tychus had bought at least half of them a drink himself.

 _Persephone Landing_

Mira wished she buttoned up her coat farther, clasping her bolter tighter in response to the cold seeping through her body. Hades was an awful cold place at night. Hades was actually just an awful place, she corrected herself. She'd be glad to leave it and Tychus Findlay behind.

He had quite a reputation, though she'd be willing to bet half of it fabricated by the big braggart himself. Still, her eyes scanned the area for any large dark shapes, he was not someone she planned on tangling with- even if there was a considerable pile of credits on his head, that was through the Confederation, not mercenary channels. She was wanted herself.

Glancing down at her watch, her red lips pursed into a tight line of displeasure. The ride was late, and nothing set off a mercs personal warning system than deadlines not being followed.

"Your ride ain't comin'," a smug, gravelly voice said.

She spun, both furious and alarmed, attempting to find her target.

"Down here sugar," it teased.

Gritting her teeth, she glanced down at her feet and found the small green blinking light connected to a comm device. "You have no control over my ride, Findlay." Quickly, she moved away from the open space and put her back to a rickety shanty wall, searching for a telltale hint desperately.

"Don't get to be me without having more than a few contacts," the voice paused, "put that gun down before you hurt yourself sweetheart."

She shook her head, he wasn't here. Couldn't be here. Keeping her gun up, she walked along the wall, keeping her back to it, with the intent of heading back into the depths of the city. There was always another night and another shot off the planet. No need to tangle with Findlay if he was going to play mind games. The comm was saying something, but she was out of range of it now, eager to leave.

He bared his teeth, watching her slip out of sight through the sights of his rifle. He wasn't a good enough shot to make sure she didn't wind up dead, not at this distance. The cherry of his stogey burned bright as he took a pull. No need to play cat and mouse, she'd have to come to him if she wanted off this place eventually. Little mouse would walk right into his mouth; he grinned at the thought.

 _Bling bling_

He frowned, glancing down at his fone. A picture of Jimmy and two busty blonds filled up the screen, bright cheery wording at the bottom saying: Greetings from Cordellia I! You shoulda came with me, partner.

Letting out a grunt of disgust, he turned off the fone and made for his vulture. At least he could get comfortable waiting for little miss Mira Han. It took some thinking and looking, but that's who she was, for sure. Not quite as wanted as him, but a bit of a rising star in the merc world. He could always admire that.

 _One Hour Later_

"In orbit above planet Hades, mission briefing ready," an adjutant said.

"Proceed."

"Target: Mira Han, Location: Hades. Notes: Miss Han has overstayed her welcome on Deadman's Rock. Don't come back until she's dead, Windcry."

"Yes father," Windcry responded automatically to the recorded voice inserting itself into the footnotes of the briefing, he was never far away. Wrapping her hands around the pilot wheel, she said, "Begin landing procedures."

 _Hangover Hotel – 3 Days Later_

"Just like that, mm!" Tychus buried his fists in the long auburn hair of the woman who came back with him from the bar. Thick fingers stroked the back of her neck, encouraging each eager swipe of the tongue and kiss of the lips, "You sure know how to make a man happy."

A giggle gave Mira pause, only for a moment, before she kicked in the door with her armored boot. "Knock knock," she said, quirking a brow at the now standing and very naked Findlay as he aimed his rifle back at her. The heavy smell of cigars, booze and sex hit her nose like a hammer.

Scared and confused, the hooker ran like a deer, clothes in one hand and heels in the other, right past Mira and into the hall. "I hope I am not interrupting you," she gave a cockeyed grin, her own bolter unerringly trained on him in turn.

"Not unless you plan on helping me finish up," he grinned and reached for the stub of his cigar with a free hand. Through the haze of lust, he genuinely wished the pink vixen would drop the gun and fulfill his fantasies. Tall women were so hot.

Effortlessly she crushed his dreams, shaking her head, "I want off this rock Findlay."

He took a long drag, the only sound between them the tiny crackling of burning plant matter, letting the moments pass by with the hopes of making her less comfortable. It didn't seem to be working, though there was a sense of urgency in her, a wild look inside her eyes that he always recognized as fear. "No," he said.

She took a step forwards, ignoring the threatening jut of his rifle. "If you don't let me get off this rock, we're both as good as dead."

"I don't have any plans to die in the near future, shame about you though."

Gritting her teeth, her patience was wearing thin. "Something is after me and it's gonna go through you to get to me," she said, voice tight.

"Something huh? I don't believe in ghosts and ghouls, sugar. You're gonna have to fork over them credits if you want outta here," he huffed, as if he was that gullible, it was insulting!

Her fingers dug into the barrel of her bolter, anxiety rising rapidly. "It makes the air scream, looks like a woman."

He looked at her incredulously, barking a harsh laugh, "If you're just here to make up stories and wave that gun of yours around, get lost and come back when you've got some more sense, sugar." He watched her begin to back out, "and send that girl back in here while you're at it!" He boomed.

The girl never came back.

In the parking lot, Mira hesitantly approached her speeder, it was a darker shade of pink and was perhaps her most treasured object; woe to the idiot who tried to steal it. Figures scattered like roaches in the face of an armed and armored woman tromping through the lot, it was a popular hangout for the wrong type. The whole planet was.

When the wind blew, her teeth clenched together tightly, listening for the telltale screaming she heard before. The man she was talking to about passage off the planet, a guy who was not influenced by Findlay, withered like a dead plant when the screaming wind started. Unashamed, she fired off her gun and ran for her life. You never forget a face when there's blood leaking out of every natural hole of it.

There was one figure that did not run, a smallish and plain looking woman who approached as the vehicle thrummed to life. Mira's eyes widened as she showed up in the rear view mirror, a small scream on the wind and a smile on her thin lips. "No!"

"Yes," the figure mouthed and nodded.

She hit the gas just as the screaming started, the speeder went flying across the parking lot as an invisible fist knocked her off of it onto her back. The wind flew out of her lungs from the impact and as her hungry lungs tried to suck it back in, they were unsuccessful.

"You have made someone very mad, Miss Han," a voice, tender but cold, whispered by her ear. The screaming died down just enough to hear it before intensifying.

The pain in her lungs redoubled as the screaming air did, and Mira understood then what was happening: the air was being ripped out of her body forcefully; it was not possible, but it was happening. She tried to reach for her rifle but it had fallen somewhere in her tumble off the bike, darkness hemmed in her vision as she rolled to her stomach and tried to get up.

"I am not usually asked to kill people of such low importance," the pain paused, enough air entering Mira's lungs for her to endure more pain and more importantly, a chat. "Tell me, did you ever intend to be the leader of Deadman's Rock?"

Confusion swam through her head as she swayed on her hands and knees, unable to go any farther upwards than that. Weakly, she said, "No. Just a merc."

"Shame," the woman tilted her head and the pain returned. "I will be sure to tell him that when I report back from the mission. It's all business you know?" She brushed a finger through Mira's short pink hair intently, "You're a mercenary, you certainly do. Love the hair by the way."

The engine was not audible above the shrieking wind, but when headlights switched on and blinded both Mira and the woman standing over her, her attention faltered. Mira sucked in a huge gasp of air as an arm looped around her waist and sent her flying- no, carried her- upwards and away from her attacker. The wind roared so loud she thought her ears were going to burst from the pressure, but as the distance rapidly increased between them, the pain and shrieking and crazy agony faded away. She passed into blissful unconsciousness, unaware of her savior.

 _Smuggler's Den_

Mira's lungs hurt- no, everything hurt. It didn't help she was laying on something terribly uncomfortable; her eyes shot open when her last memories came rushing back. Dull light was seeping in through a large crack in the wall...Cave wall? She blinked away the white and the pain and slowly sat up, looking over the place more thoroughly.

A simple carved out cave, there was a fire pit in the center and tiers of flat flooring that appeared to be for sleeping; a smugglers hideout, perhaps. Her savior was sitting behind the small campfire across from her, his expression grim and fully enhanced by his weathered appearance.

"Good morning sunshine," Tychus said.

Morning. So she'd slept the whole night, that wasn't so bad.

"Been two days, thought you might just die instead of wake up," he took a pull from a stogey, "Lucky me, here you are."

Two days! Mira groaned and started checking herself over, plenty of bumps, bruises and deep pain, but otherwise whole. "Suppose I should thank you," she muttered.

"Damn straight you outta, what was that?" he glared then, fists clenching at his knees until they were white knuckled.

"I don't know what it was," Mira's lips pursed and bowed downwards, dredging up the memory, "It looked like a woman."

"I'm hiding in a cave, Mira," Tychus snapped, "and I ain't hiding from no little girl. That was something else."

"Why did you come for me?"

"Heard the screaming, just like you said."

"Could have let me die."

"Not keen on lighting big piles of credits on fire, but in retrospect I think I should have."

"You _should_ have let me off this planet," Mira hissed in frustration. It took a lot of effort to get to her feet, but she wanted to be looking down at this infuriating conman.

"You weren't no match for me before, you definitely ain't now," he growled in a commanding tone she had yet to hear, "Sit your ass down."

She almost obeyed, almost. "I'm leaving and I'm getting off this planet," she wobbled on unsteady legs towards the sunlight stubbornly.

He was up quick as a flash, slamming his hand into the rock in front of her and making a wall of himself. "I didn't go sticking my ass over the fire for you to fly off and live happily ever after while I am stuck dealing with your shit, sugar."

"It seems we're at an impasse," she eyed the lettering on his fingers: P A I N, spelled out clearly for unlucky people. "I'm not giving you my credits and you aren't letting me go on my way, mister Findlay. Should we just stay here and die then?"

"You're gonna hold your horses while I make a call, that's what," Gently, he gave her a push backwards and watched as it took all her effort to not fall like an unbalanced toddler.

Infuriated, she sat down and stifled a noise of relief. Whatever that thing did, it was going to take recovery time. "Make your call, I'm not going anywhere," she said, defeated.

"Good," he said, returning to the fone he had been looking at before miss pretty pink princess woke up. It wouldn't be very hard to get a hold of this particular contact, he thought.

"This is Jimmy," a familiar accent filled the cave.

"Jim Raynor," Mira muttered quietly.

"Partner, hope you're havin' fun over there. Saw your picture earlier," Tychus gave his friend a halfhearted smile.

"Oh you know it partner, shoulda came with me like I told ya to!" Jim was very cheery, a sharp contrast to the situation they were in. "So I know you and you wouldn't go calling me without a need ,what's up?"

Tychus thought he very much should have gone with him, but didn't voice it. "I got me a situation over here and I think you might know what this thing I'm dealing with is," he glanced at Mira accusingly.

"Oh yeah? Well you tell me what you know and I'll tell you what I know."

"This thing makes the air scream, sounds weird I know, and it looks like a small woman."

"You're kiddin' me right?"

"No," Tychus frowned.

"Sounds like you got yourself a bon-a-fied ghost!" Jim's laughter went muffled until he could control himself.

"A ghost...Thanks Jimmy," Tychus closed the comm before Jim could respond.

The big man looked pale, but Mira didn't think it was him suddenly believing in ghosts. "What about a ghost?"

"Not a ghost," he waved her off, "a psi-freak. Were always a few whispers about Confeds having these trained killers with special abilities," he placed his fone aside and looked across the now dead fire at her. He considered leaving her corpse somewhere for this psi freak to find, and be on his own merry way.

"Why would I attract that much attention?" Mira turned uncomfortably on the spot, fully aware of a more malevolent kind of look being directed at her. "She said I made someone at Deadman's Rock angry. Who the hell has that kind of pow-" she stopped dead.

"Sounds like you know," he said, deadly quiet.

Her jaw tightened, "I can deal with that later, but right now... If it is what you're saying, I don't think there's any running."

Tychus let out a hmph, broad chest jumping enough to jingle his dog tags, "and you think I'm gonna help you kill this thing?"

"You helped me escape it."

"That's different."

"Not so much...And think about the kind of reputation boost you get by killing something like that," Mira aimed to stroke his ego, just a little.

He scratched his bare chest, only having had time to throw some pants on, leap into his boots and grab his gun. "You were blue when I grabbed you, like you were runnin' outta air or drowned."

Her eyes followed the movement of his massive paw of a hand and enjoyed the sight of muscles playing under skin, privately of course, telling him as much was an invitation to do something she wasn't up for. "Yes. So it controls air," she said.

"Great, we'll just fight it in space!" Tychus barked, throwing an arm for extra emphasis.

"Calm down. I'm sure there's a place we could lure this thing," resting her hands on her knees, she looked down longingly at the embers of the fire, the cold was seeping in but there was no more fuel for it.

Sighing heavily, he looked into the warm red coals too, searching his mental library for an answer. "If any of what I heard is true, they can read minds too," he added.

"Paintball," she blurted.

"Paintball?" He looked at her like she had lost her mind, before it clicked and a slow grin spread across his scarred face.

There was one thing on Hades that mercs, cons and everything between came together to love: space paintball.

"We still got air in the paintball suits," He frowned. He'd played his fair share, some of the dirtiest games ever recorded were ones he proudly participated in. And won, of course.

"So will she," Mira smiled demurely. Already, she felt her energy returning, the strength of surety suffusing her limbs. The anticipation of putting what laid her low six feet under was ample reason to get strong again.

"Show me your plan sugar, and let old Tychus fix it."

"Fix?" she grabbed a piece of cold coal from the fire pit, the black substance smearing all over her fingertips, "There will be nothing to fix, oaf."

"Careful now," he leaned in and watched as she began to make a layout, already shaking his head and clucking his tongue.

She hated to admit it, but Tychus' intimate knowledge of each of the space paintball arenas was invaluable in choosing which one to center their mission around. They chose Snipe City, an arena with towering heights, dangerous open areas and lots of sniper nests, based off of a rocky landscape dreamed up by some nerd who'd never seen one before.

An hour or two later their plan was formed, sprawling across a stone wall in coal. Tychus slung an arm over Mira's shoulder in a brotherly manner, noting how she wobbled beneath it, "You ready for this?"

"Always ready," she said, though the large merc woman did not make any effort to remove his arm. It was rather warm.

"Been thinkin' about how we're gonna deal with that mind reading business too," he said.

Her eyebrows quirked upwards, "Oh?"

"You're gonna have to think about something else while we're doing this, throw her off."

"That's it?"

"Well, yeah."

"Gee, thanks for that darling."

"You've never called me that before, warmin' up to the big dog are you?"

"Big dog better slow it down before he gets neutered," coldly, she shouldered away from his arm, glancing over the tattoo along his bicep.

"That's not very nice," he chuckled, already moving out of the cave and into the day. They had a paintball game to schedule.

"Take me back to my speeder!" she shouted, walking after him at her own steady pace. When she sat behind him and curled her arms around his broad form, she clung tight and gave thanks that he was so broad- the wind must have been cutting into his bare skin something fierce, but she was sheltered. Sadly, the pink speeder turned out to be stolen. Mira briefly weighed the value of it versus her life and grudgingly let it go.

 _Hades Slums_

Windcry clenched her fists and closed her eyes tightly, she couldn't hide from the voices. So many minds, each one louder than the next, chattering nonstop as the day began. Stifling a scream as the pressure in her head built until it was a dam fit to burst, she barged into an open door and unleashed upon the three junkies shooting up around a table in the derelict home.

Mouths hanging open and eye sockets gaping where their eyes once were, they fell silent to the floor; so too did their pitiable drug-fixated minds. Throwing the door shut and flinging the shabby curtains closed, she settled in for the day. There would be no sleep, only the constant fending away of voices- space was so much better, she thought, cold and empty and quiet.

She need only kill Mira Han and her new friend to return to it and later, father.

 _Space Paintball – 1:30am_

"You really think she will fall into this?"

"She's been huntin' you, you said it yourself," Tychus' already low pitched voice was garbled by the cheap Red Team comm system, "This aint a bad place to leave a body or two."

Mira and Tychus had situated themselves in separate sniper nests above the entryway. There were strategic spots to run for cover that they could do nothing about, but they gave trust to the fact that this ghosty didn't know a thing about paintball and would be slow on the draw.

Tilting her head back and taking in a deep breath, Windcry's thin lips pursed into a pleased smile. The prey was hiding inside the paintball building, the vulture parked outside belonged to the man who botched the kill. It would be a matter of personal pride to make sure he now died as well, the door swung open and the hunt began in earnest.

"Movement in the lobby," Mira said.

"Think she knows how to put on a suit?"

Mira swallowed hard, she swore there was a whistling howl in her ear, an itching on her brain. She steadied herself and refocused, becoming one with the bolter in her hands and the entrance. Survive.

 _I know you're in there,_ the voice of Windcry gently insinuated itself into their minds. _I am only killing you how you have killed others, you know._

Alarmed but remembering the advice of the large form hunkered lower and to the right of herself, Mira thought hard on the subject she chose earlier: a cartoony image of a pink siege tank. She always wanted a pink siege tank.

 _Oh, your friend is very attracted to you, did you know that?_

Her brows furrowed, glancing at Tychus, what did _he_ choose to think about?

The warning sirens blared overhead, alerting the red team to the start of the game. Blue team was preparing to enter through the large hangar bay doors, the air would be getting forcibly sucked out of the locked chamber right now.

Mira felt her stomach crawl up into her mouth as the doors opened with a deafening hiss, the last remainder of air disbursing in a puff of smoke. When the short brown haired figure stepped into the false sunlight, she focused even harder on that pink siege tank and aligned the target in her sights, finger gently pressing on the trigger.

Her eyes widened when a different gunshot went off first, missing the target by a good margin. Windcry was sprinting then, just a grey blur, for cover. Mira bared her teeth and opened fire like the big idiot, missing just as badly. "You are the worst shot I have ever seen!"

"That ain't right, I ain't that bad!" Tychus stumbled to defend himself as they ripped through the fake grass and stones, sending plumes of turf and debris flying this way and that until it was impossible to discern whether their target existed or not.

"Hold fire!" Mira barked, the large chamber going silent as the gunfire halted and the last bits of debris hit the floor.

"Target spotted," Tychus' voice was soft sounding in the aftermath.

Prone, the psionic menace was face first to the sod and unmoving.

"Could it have been so simple?" Mira murmured, though didn't queue up her mic. That a psionic killer like this could fall so easy bordered on the absurd. Tychus did not seem to have the same reservations.

Leaping from his perch and soaring downwards at a slower rate, thanks to the reduced gravity of the game mode, Tychus bee-lined towards Windcry- eager to confirm the kill.

Windcry waited, breath held, for the prey to approach. She almost smiled when she felt the weight of the big one landing nearby. The bullets were nothing to deflect, though one did graze the suit and now took up some of her attention to keep the air in, it was a minor inconvenience. Father was going to be so proud.

"Suit's damaged," Tychus took a slow step towards the small monster. That kind of destructive power wasn't meant for man, woman, anyone; it was meant to be in a gun, unleashed on those too slow to fire their own. "Can't see anything else though," his boot pressed into the arm of the corpse and tossed it over with a jerk.

Mira got to her feet and made for them at a more cautious pace, guts twisting into a million knots. It didn't feel right, it was wrong. "Tychus, be careful," she warned.

Heavy brows knitting together, he stared down at the pale, smooth features of the woman inside the suit. He aimed his rifle at her face.

Windcry's eyes snapped open, the gun flinging upwards and firing off a stray shot as Tychus shouted in alarm. On her feet within the moment of action, she sprung upwards and grasped her hands around the pipe leading from the oxygen tank to his mask.

Mira's eyes widened, gun lifting upwards.  
"Hell!" Eyes training on the hands going to his oxygen pipe, Tychus' own hand snapped up and clamped over the entire face mask of Windcry.

Together, each one roaring and shrieking their own war cry, they pulled.

Mira fired.

Windcry gasped, the air flying away with her mask as it was ripped off violently. Forgetting about the man as he threw her away to the ground, an incredible distracting pain bloomed in her side as she struggled to call the air back. _Come back!_ She cried, but her hungry lungs pulled at nothing.

Tychus swore, stumbling away from the woman on the ground and trying to jam the pipe back into his face mask, but it was too bent, too torn, to work. He began to shake as his lungs pulled for air, "Mira," he gasped.

Firing another shot into the grounded woman, Mira didn't look a second time before dropping her rifle and grabbing at the now flailing and panicked form of Tychus. "I'm gonna get you outta here! Hang on!"

Vaguely identifying Mira's voice through the panic of oxygen loss, he tried to guide himself according to her pulling and shoving, but quickly fell unconscious.

Eyes closing, the fight left Windcry in one last breathless gasp. _Thank you,_ she whispered. _It's so quiet now._

 _Hospital_

"Mm, that you I taste on my lips, sugar?"

"That would be the paramedic, the male one, that saved your life."

"You're kidding right?"

"..."

"Eugh!"

Mira's laughter filled the room as Tychus swiped the back of his arm over his mouth repeatedly, all full of disgust. Smiling brightly she said, "Glad you're awake."

"I ain't sure that I am," he sighed, arms lowering back to his sides. He looked comical in the bed, big bare feet hanging off the end and possibly wearing a bed sheet in lieu of a patient gown, it seemed the nurses did what they could.

From behind her back, Mira pulled a large sack of credits and deposited it on top of his legs, its contents clinking merrily. "Here," she said.

"Gotta admit," he grabbed the sack and hefted it in his hand, pleased at the weight, "Surprised you aren't off world enjoying your haul by now."

"It is a small price to pay for my life," she shrugged, "A "Thank you Mira" would do."

He chuckled and deftly caught her hand, tugging her over until she half fell on him. Without reservation, he gave her a kiss with all the fire and passion he could muster. If her enthusiastic fingernails digging into the corded muscle of his neck was any indication, he was right on the money.

"Ah!" She gasped for air, pressing her hand to his chest to signal a stop.

He seemed proud of himself, grinning like a scoundrel, "I can do a lot more than that."

She licked her lips, tasting him there still. He was cigars and booze and passion, a tempting offer, but she shook her head. "Another time, where you buy me a drink and I don't kill who you're guarding," she said.

Letting out a dramatic forlorn sigh, he nodded and watched her go intently, "Another time, sweetheart."

"Just Mira, I am not your wife!" the door to his room closed a little harder than necessary.

Letting out a chuckle, he jumped a little when his fone buzzed. When he picked it up, two well tanned ass cheeks greeted him, and he was pretty sure they didn't belong to no beautiful woman on Cordellia I. "Damn you Jimmy!" he said with a bitter laugh.


End file.
